Author Archives: jrayburn

“Cold as a Cucumber” and “Hot as Blue Blazes”

The informant is my grandmother, a Cherokee woman born in 1932. She worked as a nurse for her entire career, though has been retired for sometime.

In this piece, my grandmother talks about two smilies she learned from my grandfather: “cold as a cucumber” and “hot as blue blazes”.

M: Your Aunt said that you can use similes?

Me: Yes, ma’am.

M: I used to say… well, I guess I still say it… I used to say “cold as a cucumber”.

Me: Okay. Do you remember where you first heard it?

M: Your grandpa started saying it, and I then I started saying it ‘cause of him. He probably heard it from one of his brothers when they would work on the farm. He also would say “hot as blue blazes,”

Me: Do you know what that means?

M: No… I don’t think so. I guess I never really thought of what it meant.

Me: I think it means that the blue part of the flame is supposed to be the hottest.

M: Oh… that must be why he said it. Well, he would say both of those things. When you and Alyssa would be coming in out of the rain into our house, daddy would say “These kids are a cold as a cucumber” and give you both big hugs.

Me: I remember that.

M: And when you both would jump out of the shower, or when your mom would have a fever, he’d say “this child is hot as blue blazes!”

Me: So, do you say it because it reminds you of Pa?

M: I say it because he got it stuck in my head, but it does remind me of him.

I directly remember my grandfather using the simile “hot as blue blazes”. When I would get out of the bathtub, my grandfather would tell me that I was “hot as blue blazes”. I think my grandma was honest in the last thing she said: the smilies are stuck in her head, but they’re stuck in her head because of my grandfather. Whether she knows it in the moment or not, she’s reminded of my grandfather when she says “hot as blue blazes”. I directly talk about why the similes make sense: the blue part of the fire is the hottest, so calling something “hot as blue blazes” means whatever you’re about to touch is bound to be really hot.

Raise the Pump Handle

The informant is my father, John Michael Rayburn, born in 1957 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He spent his childhood in Dell City, a suburb to Oklahoma City, before graduating from the University of Oklahoma with a degree in business. His parents are both from Arkansas.

In this piece, my father talks about the folk speech “raise the pump handle”, which is a way to cure a bad cough.

Dad: When I was a kid, back in the mid 60’s, we would go on vacation in Arkansas. We’d go to my grandmother’s house, and she was still living in this small house out in the country.

Me: Wasn’t everything in Arkansas in the mid 60’s the country?

Dad: Basically, yeah, yeah. But when we’d be eating and one of the kids, one of my cousins or some kid that was just staying over, started coughing my grandmother or one of my aunts would say “raise the pump handle”. Then they’d raise one of your arms up over your head and you’d stop coughing.

Me: So, what’s “raise the pump handle,” mean?

Dad: The pump handle they referred to was the hand pump that would draw water up from the well that was dug in my grandmother’s back yard. This was how they’d get water. It was this long, wooden handle that when you raised the pump handle this nice, cold, clear water would come out of the well. So they’d say “raise the pump handle,” and you’d raise your arms up and it would open the airway and help whatever was causing the cough. I’m sure all of my cousins have used this saying with their grandkids.

Me: This is the first I’m hearing of it.

Dad: Oh, I just thought coughing would help you build character.

Me: Who are you? The dad from Calvin and Hobbes?

[Dad Laughs]

Dad: I guess so, yeah. Anyways, I don’t know how long that was a saying, but the first time I heard it was from my grandma in the 1960’s.

My dad really likes these kinds of sayings, and has always used them as I’ve been growing up. I believe that he likes using them because it gives him something unique a lot of other people don’t have, and when other people knows this obscure reference then it means they have something in common. My dad, as long as I’ve known him, has never been afraid to be exactly who he is. Using such an odd and little known metaphor is something that I think connects him to his past and where he’s come from, and has no shame in where he’s come from.

Frogs Cause Warts and How to Protect Yourself

The informant is my father, John Michael Rayburn, born in 1957 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He spent his childhood in Dell City, a suburb to Oklahoma City, before graduating from the University of Oklahoma with a degree in business. His parents are both from Arkansas.

In this piece, my dad talks to me about the belief that frogs are the cause of warts, and what he would do to protect himself from getting warts.

D: When I was about ten years old I heard from friends and cousins that if you get frog ‘pee’ on your hands it will cause warts. I didn’t know what warts were, but I knew I didn’t want them. So, I would sneak into the kitchen and put on my Mom’s latex gloves she wore when washin’ the dishes.

M: Did you really?

D: Yeah, I thought putting on protection would stop me from getting the warts. I always practiced safe frog handling.

[I laugh at this]

M: Or you could just not go and catch frogs.

D: It was the 60’s. There was nothing else to do.

M: So did the gloves help?

D: Well, I remember it was one night on the weekend and I noticed a bump on one of my fingers. So, I went to my Mom  and asked what the bump was and she told me it was a wart. I was scared and told her I was always careful to put on her Latex gloves before I handled frogs from the creek.

M: Oh my God.

D: I know, for some reason she was horrified that I had used her Latex gloves to handle frogs from the creek and promptly went in to dispose of the gloves.  She then informed me it was a myth that frog pee causes warts and that her latex gloves were to only be worn when washin’ dishes.

M: I actually didn’t know that — I always thought that was true though. That frogs give you warts.

D: Nope. Not according to Grandma Rayburn.

I think this piece is really great, because it’s exactly what folklore is: information shared between others. My dad had no insight into what actually caused warts, but totally believed in what his cousins and friends said because he trusted them. I even learned something through this story. I think my dad likes this story because of how funny it is. Imagining my dad as a ten year old running around catching frogs with those big yellow latex gloves on is really funny to me. He  a bit naive, but that’s kind of what being young is about.

The Three Bears Lullaby

The informant in this piece is my grandmother on my father’s side, Ruth, a retired teacher born in 1926 in Arkansas.

In this piece, she talks about a lullaby she used to sing to my father and aunt. She could not remember much of the lullaby, but I found the lullaby she was talking about. When I read her the following lyrics, she said they were pretty close to what she can remember.

“Once upon a time in a neat little cottage there lived three bears

One was a daddy bear and one was a mama bear and one was a wee bear

While they were out a-walking, through the deep woods a-stalking came a little girl with blonde hair

Her name was Goldilocks and upon the door she knocks but no one was there

So she walked right in and had herself a time coz she didn’t care

Then she got sleepy, went upstairs to bed, when…

Home, home, home came the three bears!

Someone’s been eating my porridge said the daddy bear,

Someone’s been eating my porridge said the mama bear,

Hey Ba-ba Re-bear said the little wee bear someone has broken my chair!
Someone’s been sitting in my chair said the daddy bear,

Someone’s been sitting in my chair said the mama bear,

Hey Ba-ba Re-bear said the little wee bear someone has broken my chair!

Just then Goldilocks woke up, broke up the party and beat it out of there
Bye-bye! Bye! Bye! said the daddy bear

Goodbye, Bye said the mama bear

Hey Ba-ba Re-bear said the little wee bear

So ends the story of the three bears!”

N: When Cathy and Mike were very young I would read to them or tell bedtime stories until I would get so sleepy I couldn’t read any more. I would then start to sing a little song that went like this ‘ Once upon a time there were three bears, A Papa Bear, A Mama Bear and a Wee Bear’. They would cry out “No, don’t sing the song”. I never knew if they didn’t like my singing or they didn’t want the stories to end.

M: Do you remember any of the song?

N: Um… no. No more than what I just sang to you.

M: Do you remember where you learned it?

N: I think I had learned it from my mother. She would sing it to me when I was little.

M: It’s funny. I never knew there was a song for Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

I really like my grandmother’s response to why my dad and aunt had such a bad reaction to the song. Personally, I think it was because they knew after the song, the stories would end. I think people tell lullabies they heard as children because it reminds them of when they were little, and they want to have that in common with their children. When I asked my dad about it, however, he said he barely remembers the lullaby. It interesting what some people hold very important, and others forget about.

For other versions of this lullaby, visit http://dragon.sleepdeprived.ca/songbook/songs4/S4_36.htm

Hickory Nut Tea and How We Used to Make It

The informant is my grandmother, a Cherokee woman born in 1932. She worked as a nurse for her entire career, though has been retired for some time.

In this piece, my grandmother gives an explanation of how she used to make hickory nut tea during her childhood and talks briefly about who taught her the recipe.

M: I’m going to teach you how to make hickory nut tea.

Me: Okay [laughs]

M: You have to get a stump. You drill a hole into the stump.

Me: How big is the stump?

M: About to your waist.

Me: Okay, so waist high.

M: Yes. You drill a hole into the stump. Not all the way through, though. Then, you go and get hickory nut. You put the hickory nuts into the hole. Then, you take a mallet, which was a stick kind of thing. Then you start smashing the hickory nuts with the mallet.

Me: Okay.

M: Do you have this so far?

Me: Yes, ma’am.

M: Okay. Then you take the hickory nut out of the stump and put it into a cup of water, and then boil the water. You drink hickory nut tea in the fall. It’s a fall drink.

Me: Okay.

M: That’s how you make hickory nut tea.

Me: Where did you learn this?

M: My father. He would make it every year in the fall using this process.

In researching this, I found the small lump my grandmother is talking about is called “kenuche”. You place the kenuche in the water and boil it, according to her. Here is a website that mainly focuses on showing you how to make hickory nut soup, but still shows the process of how to make a “kenuche ball” in a more modern way: http://halfhillfarm.com/2013/10/13/recipe-cherokee-kenuche-ball-hickory-nut-soup/

There’s a lot to do in the process of making hickory nut tree. My grandmother describes it as a hard process: one that takes a lot of strength, patience, and perseverance. This recipe is probably something our great ancestors would make. My grandmother describes hickory nut tea as being a “fall drink”, meaning it relates to today’s “pumpkin spice latte”. It warms you up as the weather is starting to get cold, and was used by my ancestors for this specific reason. I don’t see my grandmother going out and making hickory nut tea through this process, but perhaps even knowing about it makes her feel connected to her past. She passes down the information not in hopes that we make hickory nut tea, but that we keep the knowledge alive, and so we don’t forget something our ancestors considered very important.